A Beast
by Spoggly
Summary: Inspired by the Ginsberg poem "Please Master" and an evil friend.  "Please master call me a dog, an a** beast, a wet a**hole." Ianto is afraid of such a fate OR a vague five ways in which Jack tries to get Ianto to give it up.


The way that Jack stared at him made Ianto extremely nervous.

Well, he clarified internally, it wasn't specifically the staring. Jack had been staring since he had been hired, although there were breaks when he finally perfected 'disappearing into the background: a still life with coffee.' And then there was the time when he quite suddenly got thrust out of the background. It was the _way _he was staring. _And _the body part targeted. It was the way that Jack Harkness stared at Ianto's arse like he was going to do something unspeakable to it.

It made him long for the archives, where he knew of the perfect piece of alien beauty equipment that for some inscrutable reason tended to vaporize eyeballs when activated.

The man was his _boss_, for christ's sake. His immediate supervisor! Barring any accidents resulting in death or temporary indisposure, in which case Owen was promoted due to alphabetical order (the list hadn't yet been updated since Suzie's suicide) until Tosh or Gwen rebelled, shot the arsehole, and seized control.

The point _was_, he told himself firmly, that it was more than inappropriate for his employer to stare at him in a way that suggested he wanted to _do things to him_. Sure, blowjobs had been exchanged in the past, but that was when he was hiding Lisa in the basement, and surely that explanation would put anyone off.

It wasn't even that he hadn't known what he was getting into, exactly - the rumours of Captain Jack Harkness had certainly made the rounds at Torchwood One, and it didn't take a genius to see that Jack stared at any living (with exceptions made for beautiful skin) body like he wanted to _devour _ it. But after the cyber-debacle, and the suspension, and the threats of death on both sides, it was more than a little unnerving.

It was even more unnerving when hands suddenly grabbed his hips in the archives.

A very short, very dignified, yelp escaped Ianto's mouth before he was forcibly turned around to face Jack Harkness's eyes and mouth. He certainly would not be looking lower than that, thank you very much.

"That was quite a jump!" Jack grinned at him. "Are you afraid of something down here?"

"No, nothing like that," Ianto said. "I just, uh, wasn't expecting anyone to be down here. Especially so soon after lunch. Was there something wrong with your chow fun?"

"Oh, nothing wrong with it. To be honest, I was just looking for a little more...fun," Jack said, one of the low-UV lights glinting off an exposed eyetooth.

"I'm going to have to suggest you check your internet bookmarks, sir," Ianto said, twisting his hips and freeing himself from Jack's freakishly large hands.

"Oh, sure," Jack said, retreating back up the archive stairs. "I'm sure we could find something interesting in there."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I thought you said you'd done this before?"

"Well, not that. Not that specifically," Ianto said, trying to wriggle away so he could find his shoes.

Jack just held on tighter, his face uncomfortably close to Ianto's cock.

"Don't look like that!" Ianto snapped.

"Like what?" Jack asked innocently, grinning and starting to toy with Ianto's fly.

"Like that!" Ianto said with more thrashing about that only earned him a sharp pinch to his thigh. "Nnnngh, you have too many teeth. It freaks me out when you smile like that."

Jack just smiled wider and moved his hands up. Uncomfortably close to -

"No," Ianto groaned. His first blowjob from his boss was actually going to occur in their shared office space. What had his life come to?

"Your mouth feels so ungh," Ianto panted, trying to decide whether his cock wanted more or wanted to retreat into his torso. "What the...hell is in there?"

"Trade secret," is what he thought Jack responded with. It sounded like he had a mouthful of jawbreakers rotating around his mouthful of cock.

_Mints_, Ianto decided silently. It had to be. Because the thought that Jack had grabbed something from the archives, _put it in his mouth_, and then applied said combination to Ianto's dick was just too much to bear.

And then it was too late for deep(ish) thought, because he was coming down Jack's throat.

Wiping his mouth, Jack sat back on his heels, gloriously and un-self-consciously naked.

"I bet you're relaxed enough now-"

Ianto made a desperate lunge for the dick waving in front of his face. Further conversation was cut off at the pass, and he awarded himself another point in the ongoing battle of the wills.

_Blowjobs counted_, he told his frantic inner accountant. _They counted, right?_ They hadn't before Lisa, but they most certainly did now, what with the full knowledgeable consent, or as much knowledgeable consent as one could get from Jack Harkness.

Before he had much more time to think about, there was a sticky jet in his mouth, and that was effectively that for now.

"I want to fuck you," Jack whispered into Ianto's ear. His hot breath ghosted over the sensitive lobe, setting Ianto's nerve endings on fire.

Unfortunately, the whispering was taking place in the middle of a briefing, and Ianto was researching all the past cases involving penises so swollen that they had burst, incidentally taking the majority of the attached body's circulation systems with them.

"Can't you wait for a more suitable case?" he whispered, far less seductively, back. "After the background research on this, you'll be lucky if I even let you see my nipples, to be honest."

"Seriously, though," Jack said, with the shallowest of thrusts against Ianto's impeccably tailored ass. "I'm irresistible, right? So stop resisting."

It was a close thing, too. Quarantine of Jack and Owen helped quite a bit, although Gwen and Ianto had both caught a bit of the second-hand alien drug. Tosh had sent Gwen home to Rhys, and Ianto fled after a rather obscene puppet-show had been performed for his benefit over the internal CCTV.

"I love you," Jack whispered into Ianto's ear.

"I love you, too," Ianto whispered back, nudging his hips infinitesimally closer to Jack's.

"I'm so sorry that I left. I just couldn't let my chance - "

"Shh," Ianto murmured, laying a finger over Jack's lips. "We understood. We knew that you had to do it, that you couldn't help leaving. It's okay."

"Oh, Ianto, it's all gone so wrong," Jack choked out. He would have been sobbing, if he had the excess moisture for it. "I just wanted answers, a solution, and now I've let loose this fucking evil _force_."

"Shhh, shhh," Ianto repeated, a vision of cleanliness and svelte coolness in the sweltering, filthy heat of the Valiant's underbelly. "Don't be over-dramatic. Everything will be alright."

"I don't see how," Jack said. "He showed me your body, and I'm not sure that our interaction right now is a mark of my maintaining my cool."

"Well," Ianto said, unzipping his faintly see-through fly. "You can have sanity, or you can have sexy hallucinations. I can tell you which I prefer."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Partners. In every sense of the word."

'Welllll..." Jack said, drawing the word out as long as his accent would let him, which wasn't nearly as long as he felt he deserved in this odd land of consonants.

"It's a very loose concept, when one takes into account the time loop. I mean, really, time is subjective! As we're seeing tonight, so, uh, weeks are weeks?"

"Okay," Ianto said, stale breath ghosting over Jack's face, while Jack absorbed every bit of evidence of reality, of the fact that Ianto was in front of him, whole and undamaged and slightly worse for the wear, in an unvacuumed hallway in Cardiff.

"So does that mean we're okay?" Jack asked, and he was certainly not crossing his toes inside his boots.

"We're...alright," Ianto said, a faint smile quirking the corner of his lush mouth. "That doesn't mean I'm going to let you fuck me."

Jack stood for a moment, contemplating the door that had somehow been slammed politely in his face. _Never say never._


End file.
